‘Stalking? Fuck off. That’s not stalking.’
‘So what’s a boy your age doing hitting on an eight-year-old girl if it’s not stalking? We have you with her on camera, four separate times. On the last occasion she’s seen in a car with you and the brother of a convicted child rapist, and a few weeks later she disappears. You think a jury won’t draw the obvious conclusion?’
‘I wasn’t hitting on her – ’
‘So what was it then? Why else would you bother with a kid like that? Getting in touch with your feminine side, were you? Or did you develop a sudden overwhelming interest in My Little Pony? Or perhaps Barbie is your doll of choice? I mean, it’s 2016 – boys can play with girls’ toys, right?’
He swings his legs down and plants his feet on the floor. He won’t look at me, but the hand that holds the fag is shaking.
‘You were grooming her, weren’t you – getting her to trust you so you could abuse her – ’
‘I did not abuse her – ’
‘Did you give her to those sickos the Rahijas used to deal with? I bet they’d pay a fortune to rape a girl like that. Or did you want her for yourself? Is that what happened that day? You go round to the house, all smiles, all Prince Charming. And her mother’s not there so she goes out to play with you and for a while it’s nicey nicey. Only by the time you have your fist in her knickers – ’
‘Inspector,’ pleads Ross, ‘is that really necessary?’
‘ – she realizes what you really want and she’s screaming and you have to shut her up but she’s struggling and you have your hand over her mouth – ’
‘You’re disgusting,’ yells the boy, lurching to his feet. ‘I didn’t lay a fuckin’ finger on her. You’re fuckin’ sick, that’s what you are – only some sort of weirdo pervert would do that to their own sister – ’
I take a deep breath, count to five. ‘Your sister.’
He swallows. ‘Yeah. Barry Mason is my dad.’
He sits back down, heavily. ‘The sodding bastard.’
*
Back in my office, I call Alex.
‘Where the hell are you, Adam? I thought we were supposed to be going to your parents’ for lunch.’
Shit. I’d forgotten all about it.
‘I’m sorry. Things have rather – ’
‘Got away from you. I know. This is me, remember?’
I sigh. ‘Am I really that predictable?’
‘During a big case? That would be a yes.’
‘I’m sorry. I’ll call my mother. I promise. Look, I wanted to ask you a favour. I know your firm isn’t big on Legal Aid, but we’ve got this kid in here who was seen talking to Daisy outside the school. Turns out he’s Barry Mason’s son by a first marriage.’
‘Shit. Sounds like someone slipped up.’
‘I know, but to be fair we had no reason to go looking. Not till now anyway. The problem is we can’t find either his mother or his stepfather. Neither’s answering their phone and the next-door neighbour thinks they could be away for the weekend. The duty solicitor is stuck on another case and we haven’t yet found anyone who can get here much before this evening. So I was wondering – ’
‘ – if I’d find someone for you?’
I bite my lip. ‘I’m sorry. It always seems to be me asking the favours these days.’
‘And me doing them.’ There’s a long intake of breath, then, ‘OK, leave it with me. I may be able to lean on a junior who’s got more ambition than social life. What’s your kid’s name?’
‘Jamie Northam.’
I can hear the surprise. ‘Not Northam as in Marcus Northam?’
‘I’ve no idea. Why – should I have heard of him?’
‘Put it this way, we’ll be charging him the full rate. Plus expenses. I’ll make a couple of calls and ring you back.’
‘Thanks, Alex, I really – ’
But the line has gone dead.
*
Continuation of interview with Barry Mason, conducted at St Aldate’s Police Station, Oxford
23 July 2016, 3.09 p.m.
In attendance, DI A. Fawley, Acting DS G. Quinn, Miss E. Carwood (solicitor)
AF: I’d like to ask you some questions about your son, Jamie Northam. When did you last see him?
BM: He was waiting outside one day when I left the office. Sitting on the wall.
AF: Do you know how he found you?
BM: He said it took him about five minutes to find the firm on the internet. I didn’t realize they were living so near here. I haven’t seen Moira in years.
AF: And was that the only time you’ve seen him recently?
BM: No. I didn’t have time to talk to him that night so I said I’d see him in a coffee shop on the Banbury Road a couple of days later. The Starbucks. I had Leo in the car so I only had ten minutes. To be honest, I was hoping he wouldn’t turn up – I was hoping he’d have forgotten the whole thing.
AF: But he didn’t.
BM: No.
AF: So what did he want?
BM: He said he’d like to see me – a couple of times a month or something. I gathered he was having a pretty shitty time at home. Moira’s always been a cold bitch, and that stepfather of his is clearly a self-important tosser.
AF: So he was hoping for some support from you, as his biological father? Someone to give him the affection he wasn’t getting at home?
BM: You’re twisting it – it wasn’t like that –
AF: So what was it like?
BM: What he wanted – it would have been a nightmare. Sharon’s never even let me tell the kids about Jamie, never mind let me see him. I’d have had to make up all sorts of lies about where I was going –
GQ: I dunno, you seem pretty good at that to me.
BM: - and when she did find out she’d have blown her bloody top. It was just all too sodding difficult.
AF: So what did you say? When you blew your son off?
EC: There’s no need to take that tone, Inspector.
AF: Well, Mr Mason?
BM: I told him we were having some family trouble. That I’d think about it again when things had quietened down.
AF: What sort of trouble?
BM: What difference does it make?
AF: What sort of trouble, Mr Mason?
BM: Well, if you must know, I told him Daisy was having problems at school.
AF: What kind of problems?
BM: You know, that she was falling behind with her work – that the school was really competitive and we were having to help her because she was struggling to keep up.
AF: Was that true?
BM: No, of course it wasn’t true. Daisy’s way smarter than any of those stuck-up kids in her class.
AF: So it was a lie. Instead of taking responsibility for your own decisions, like a man, you put all the blame on your eight-year—old daughter.
BM: For fuck’s sake, it was just a white lie –
AF: I think you’ll find kids aren’t very good at telling the difference, Mr Mason. A lie’s just a lie, in their book.
BM: Whatever. Like I said, what difference does it make?
AF: Did you stop to think for a moment what damage it might do? That Jamie might resent your daughter after what you told him? That he’d see her as the reason why he couldn’t have a relationship with you – that it was all her fault? He already had a criminal record. He’s an angry and unstable young man, and now he has a grievance. Did you think for a moment what might happen, if they met?
BM: They weren’t going to meet –
AF: I know that’s what you assumed, but it’s not what happened, is it? He tracked her down, just like he tracked you down. And this is the result.
[shows still from CCTV]
That’s your daughter, Mr Mason. In the back of a car owned by the brother of a known paedophile.
BM: [looking at picture]
Jesus Christ - are you telling me Jamie did something to her – that he’s the one who took her?
AF: I have no idea, Mr Mason. Because, right now, none of us knows where she is. Do we?
* * *
—
Out in the corridor, Quinn turns to me. ‘You know, despite everything, I’m more and more convinced he didn’t do it. The porn, yes; the abuse, perhaps. But not the rest of it – not killing her. I saw his face just now, when you told him about her being in Azeem’s car. I don’t think anyone could fake that.’
‘So like 67 per cent of the shits on Twitter, you think she did it.’
‘If it has to be one of those two, then yes. But right now, my money’s on Jamie Northam. For what it’s worth.’
*